The Post-Apocalyptic Tourist's Guide to the Mojave Desert: A Novella

by Sean Hazlett

  Milkshake looked over his shoulder at Tony and shot him a goofy grin. “Deal.”

  Tony took a deep breath, grateful that they’d made it through another tough spot. He reached for his crucifix only to be reminded that the People of the Sun had stolen it from him. He shrugged, made the sign of the cross, and mouthed a silent prayer.

  A shadow passed over them.

  “What the fuck was that?” Tony shaded his eyes with his hand as he gazed into the bright sky.

  High over the horizon, something glided on the wind like a bird, but its shape was...off.

  Milkshake pointed at the silhouette. “Look! It’s coming back around again.”

  Tony shifted in the saddle. He craned and twisted his neck to get a better view, but the sun obscured his vision.

  “Shit!” Milkshake was visibly animated. “It’s heading toward us! And it’s coming in real fast!”

  Tony tried getting a bead on whatever was tracking them. He gripped his sickle a little too tightly. The handle was slick with sweat. He quickly wiped it on his shirt so it wouldn’t slip from his hands in a fight.

  Milkshake tightened the reins. Tony took another peek back and saw it. No more than three hundred yards behind them and closing in fast.

  It was no bird.

  “Go!” Tony slapped Milkshake on the back. Hard.

  Milkshake tightened his legs and leaned forward in the saddle. The horse moved from a trot into a gallop. Joey followed.

  “Fuck! Here it comes!” Tony hung to the side of the saddle, holding his sickle at the ready.

  Then it was on them. Something shaped like a man with blue-green scales, an elongated torso, a reptilian tail, and giant raven’s wings.

  Milkshake made the horse veer left, narrowly avoiding the attack. Tony swung at the creature and missed. It flew west, climbing to gain altitude.

  “What the hell was that?” Milkshake’s voice quaked.

  Tony shrugged. “The fuck if I know. Maybe the alien’s did some crazy ass gene-splicing out here. It would explain the freak shows we faced in the cave.” Tony paused for a moment as he watched the sky. “Oh, shit! It’s coming back around again!”

  This time, Tony could clearly see the thing’s serpentine face. It bared its fangs as it swooped down for a second pass.

  But Tony was ready. He waited for it to get close, then hacked at it with all his strength. His sickle caught on the thing’s leg. The creature broadsided him with its tail, knocking Tony off his horse. Then it soared again into the heavens.

  Tony hit the ground hard. He rolled end-over-end, then slammed headfirst into the sand. Sharp pain spread throughout his face as blood poured out of his nose. He slowly stumbled to his feet. When he looked up, the creature had already turned and began to angle for another pass. And this time, it was heading straight for Tony.

  In the chaos, Tony had dropped his sickle. Frantic, he searched everywhere for it. Milkshake and Joey had turned their horses and were now galloping toward him.

  As the creature descended, it picked up speed. If Tony had to guess, the thing was pissed.

  It collided with Tony before he had a chance to dive for the dirt, knocking the wind out of him. Bleary-eyed and broken, Tony staggered to his feet. When he looked ahead, he was stunned to see the desert demon had landed and was striding toward him.

  Tony glanced around. Still no sign of the sickle. Joey and Milkshake were getting closer, but they weren’t gonna make it in time. So Tony planted his feet and squared his shoulders for a fight.

  The thing didn’t move like a man. It lunged like a snake, lashing out with fangs not fists. Tony could never tell where it would strike, but he was certain that if Joey and Milkshake didn’t arrive soon, he’d bob and weave right into those jaws.

  It struck again, barely missing Tony. He spun right, then kicked it. It hissed. With a swipe of its tail, it knocked Tony off his feet. Before he could get back up, the creature had him pinned. It hadn’t looked so big from the ground, but this close, Tony estimated it was well over nine feet tall and weighed four hundred plus pounds.

  Tony used every bit of strength he had to keep its fangs away from him. The only thing keeping him alive was the adrenaline surging through his veins. Nearly overwhelmed with exhaustion, the edges of his vision were going black.

  The earth trembled. There was a wet thud like a knife cutting through watermelon. Joey slowed his horse to a trot, then wheeled it back around, his sickle stained with blood. The serpent thing’s head tumbled into the sand. A crimson geyser spurted from the headless carcass.

  Milkshake and Joey reined in their horses, stopping several feet from Tony.

  “You okay?” said Milkshake.

  Tony crawled out from beneath the lifeless husk. Once he got back on his feet, he wiped the warm blood and wet sand off his shirt. “We need to take that thing with us. The Regiment and the Five Families need to know what’s out here.”

  Joey shook his head.

  It didn’t matter that Joey had just saved Tony’s ass; Tony couldn’t have been angrier with Joey. “What the fuck do you mean,‘no’? Without proof, no one will ever believe us.”

  Milkshake sighed. “Joey’s right. With that kinda load, the horses’ll never make it to the Cajon Pass. Let’s just take the head.”

  The kid had a point.

  “Fine,” Tony said. “Grab it and let’s go.”

  Again, Joey shook his head. Then he dismounted and stuck his sickle in the thing’s jaws, which snapped shut.

  “Fuck,” said Tony. “You’re right. That thing’s mouth is like a giant rattlesnake’s. And a severed rattlesnake’s head can still bite even hours after death. Ain’t no way I’m putting its head behind me in a saddle. Let’s bury it and mark the site. We can pick it up on the way back.”

  Joey gave Tony a curt nod. Then the three men spent an hour digging a hole, burying the head, and then marking it with a wooden cross constructed from the branches of a Joshua Tree. Then they all headed west.

  VI. Sailing on the Santa Ana Winds

  Two days later, the crew reached Barstow. Four Blackhorse troopers challenged them on the town’s outskirts.

  Milkshake seemed a bit rattled. Tony suspected the kid was worried stories had reached the Regiment about the nanoswarm’s destruction of Alpha Troop. But Tony was more optimistic. Word didn’t travel that fast out here. If it had, the troopers would have greeted them with crossbow bolts.

  So Tony told them enough to satisfy their curiosity, but not so much as to arouse their suspicions. He gave them his version of the Battle of Baker. How the People of the Sun had ambushed Alpha Troop. How a nanoswarm had wiped out people on both sides. How they’d barely escaped with their lives.

  Yet he left out the stranger, more disturbing accounts of what had happened in the caverns and after their escape from Baker. It would raise too many questions and delay their passage west.

  The soldiers did press Tony on whether he and his comrades were trafficking methamphetamine. In no uncertain terms, Tony made it clear he found their insinuation insulting. But he consented to their pat down all the same.

  In response to Tony’s complaints, the troopers relayed several incidents where meth fueled the People of the Sun’s brutally effective offensives. And the Regiment suspected the Five Families were their supplier. Deep down, Tony began to think they might be right. In fact, he wouldn’t have been surprised if his own caravan had been carrying the stuff. But if that were true, why would the People of the Sun have attacked it?

  Then Tony had a horrifying realization: maybe the ambush hadn’t been so random. Maybe the People of the Sun had had some other objective in mind. After all, they’d only taken the horses and five wagons, leaving everything else untouched.

  Tony’s head was already spinning with enough questions to give him a migraine, so he tried to focus on more positive thoughts like making it to the Cajon Pass in one piece.

  From the way the soldiers reacted to his account, it was obvious Tony wasn’t t
he only one who’d had a bad brush with the People of the Sun. And he was convinced the only reason the Regiment had let his crew pass through Barstow was because he’d told the Blackhorse where they could find the bastards.

  Two more days and the crew arrived in Victorville. In the two years since Tony’s last visit, it had transformed into a thriving way station. The town fed the Regiment’s increasing appetite for men and material as it expanded its sphere of influence in the High Desert. A sphere of influence, Tony noted, that would soon clash with the interests of the Five Families.

  The three men kept a low profile in Victorville, gathering all the provisions they needed for the final leg of their journey.

  They continued along the I-15 Trail until they reached the base of the San Bernardino Mountains, which they slowly climbed until reaching the Cajon Pass. There, Tony’s friend, Fast Eddie, ran a listening post for the Five Families at the old Best Western Inn.

  A devil’s wind blasted through the Cajon Pass like flames venting from Hell. It had a dryness about it—a soul-sucking dryness that sapped one’s will to live, leaving a bone-weary exhaustion in its wake.

  Tony knew from Father Serra’s lessons that once Milkshake got the wingsuit and glided down the San Gabriel Mountains, the landscape would change dramatically from the hardy yucca and Joshua trees crowning the ridges above him to lush palm trees in the valleys below.

  The Best Western Inn had a crimson Spanish-tiled roof capping arches of sandstone. Palm trees and Italian cypresses lined the motel’s perimeter. Men wearing white leisure suits, fedoras, and sunglasses, and brandishing machetes, prowled the parking lot like cougars hunting for prey.

  The instant the trio stepped onto the broken black asphalt, a burly man challenged them. After Tony explained his business, the man allowed him, Milkshake, and Joey to pass.

  The trio hitched their horses, then made their way to the front desk. A short, stocky man with slicked-back gray hair and bags under his eyes stood behind the counter. An expression of extreme boredom infected his face.

  “Whaddya want?” the man said without looking up.

  “Eddie, it’s Tony Genovese from Vegas.”

  “Bullshit,” Eddie said in a monotone, again without looking up. “Tony ‘Six Fingers’ is dead.”

  Joey bristled at the comment. And Tony didn’t miss it.

  Tony reached across the desk and grabbed Eddie’s chin with his six-fingered right hand. “Eddie, look at me. It’s Tony. Swear to Christ.”

  A spark of recognition ignited Eddie’s face. He did a double take as his expression transformed in quick succession from boredom to shock then to happy familiarity. “Tony! C’mere you big fucking lug.” Eddie spread his arms wide and embraced Tony.

  Tony got straight to the point. “So what’s this rumor ‘bout me being dead?”

  Eddie frowned, then his eyes shifted to Joey.

  Tony glanced over his shoulder and then back at Eddie. “What? What is it?”

  Fast Eddie’s eyes opened as wide as silver dollars. Before he could ask his friend another question, Tony felt a sharp cut and tug around his neck. He grabbed the piano wire and tried to push it away, his fingers raw and bloody from the effort. He stumbled forward, choking as Joey tightened the noose.

  Eddie ran around his desk and fled the building, leaving Tony to struggle for his life. Milkshake screamed at Joey, telling him to stop. But the kid’s voice faded into the background of Tony’s heartbeat as Tony fought for survival. He jerked and sputtered. He slammed Joey against the wall. But no matter how hard Tony resisted, his assassin held on with the tenacity of a bull rider.

  Tony gasped for air. The edges of his vision slowly constricted.

  Moments from what Tony was sure would be his last breath, the pressure on his neck slackened. Tony sucked in as much air as fast as he could. He slid to the floor, panting. Leaning against the wall, Tony slowly regained his vision. He took in his surroundings. Joey lay facedown and motionless on the floor, a wide gash in his back. Milkshake stood over Joey with a bloody saber. The boy’s face had a deathly white pallor.

  Tony watched the boy in silence. He worried about how the horrors the young man had witnessed these past few days would forever shape the man he’d become. He felt much like a father fretting over the health of his son. But Tony quickly dispensed with this weak sentimentality. He stood up, walked over to Milkshake, and took the saber from the stunned kid. Then Tony kicked over Joey’s body so he could see his would-be assassin’s face.

  Joey wasn’t dead.

  The mute man wheezed as his last breaths escaped his lips. Without voice, Joey spoke with his eyes. At the moment of death, most people would cry or beg. Tony knew; he’d retired plenty of folks. But Joey was different. His eyes screamed defiance.

  Tony turned toward Milkshake. “Now we know what the box was for.” He raised the saber and chopped off Joey’s head. It was a messy affair, requiring several swings to completely sever Joey’s spinal column. Then Tony lifted Joey’s head by the hair and set it on the table. “Now, kid, make yourself useful and fetch Fast Eddie.”

  With a blank stare, Milkshake nodded, then ran outside. A minute later, Fast Eddie entered the room with Milkshake in tow.

  The proprietor held up his hands in apology. “I swear, Tony, I would’ve warned ya if I’d had a chance.” Then he saw Joey’s head and fell to his knees. He crawled to Tony and hugged his legs, sobbing. “Please, Tony! I swear to Jesus I had nothing to do with this hit. Ya gotta believe me. Please!”

  Tony maintained a flat expression. “I’m gonna need three cardboard boxes. And some supplies for the trek back to Vegas. I’m also gonna need you to hire a Blackhorse escort. Your dime. Capische?”

  Fast Eddie laughed in what almost sounded like relief. “Of course, Tony. Anything you need. I’ll get right on it.”

  “Oh yeah,” Tony added, “I’m gonna need a wingsuit for my boy, Milkshake, here. You know, that contraption all the smugglers use to glide out from Mount Baldy and parachute into Southern California.” Tony paused for a moment, then smiled. “Oh, and I promised this kid a few pens and one of them leatherbound logbooks you keep records in. Pristine condition with nothing but blank pages. And put them in a nice satchel so the guidebook doesn’t get dirty.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Sure will. My pleasure,” Eddie said.

  “I could probably use those boxes right now.” Tony paused, then added, “Unless you want this piece of shit’s head to bleed all over your counter.”

  Eddie nodded. “I’ll get them right away!” Fast Eddie disappeared for ten minutes and then returned with three head-sized cardboard boxes.

  Tony dumped Joey’s bloody head in one of them. After that, he turned to Milkshake. “Thanks, kid, for all your help. I couldn’t have gotten this far without it.” Tony extended his hand.

  Milkshake shook it.

  Tony faced Eddie. “Give this kid a room for a few days so he can rest and record everything’s he’s seen on his journey. At the end of each day, I want you to copy what he writes in a second guidebook. After you both finish, I want one of your guys to take Milkshake up to Mount Baldy and show him how to use the wingsuit and parachute. Then keep that second guidebook here until I return. Once you make good on everything I’ve asked for, then you and me will be square.”

  “Absolutely. No problem,” Eddie said. “Tony, I really want ya to believe me. I had nothing to do with the hit. And I tried to warn you; I just couldn’t come right out and say it with Joey standing there.”

  “Right.” Tony was skeptical. “Being such a loyal friend and all, did any other orders from Mickey about me arrive by raven?”

  Fast Eddie started nodding. “Come to think of it, yeah. My guess is he thought you’d be dead by now. The dispatch said if I saw you here, I was supposed to send a raven letting him know.”

  Tony smiled. “Good. Send that raven. You tell him we all showed up, but only Joey left with a box. And leave it at that.”

  “C’mon, Tony. If the
boss catches me in a lie, he’ll deep six me.”

  Tony considered Eddie’s objection. The man had a point. “Fine. I’ll tell ya what: wait a day before you send that raven. But before then, send three ravens for me. One to Johnny Garibaldi, another to Frankie ‘Two Toes’ Papaleo, and the third to Iggy ‘Sour Puss’ Mancini. I’ll supply the message. Capishe?” Tony held out his hand.

  Eddie shook it. “Fine.” He held up his index finger. “But you have one day.”

  “Good. Give me a few minutes while I write the letters.” Tony looked back at Milkshake. “You all set, kid?”

  “Almost. But before I go, I’m a little curious about a few things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Why did Mickey go to all the trouble of hiring the Blackhorse and sending you all the way out here if he was just gonna murder you anyway?”

  Tony laughed. “Back in Vegas, I got people loyal to me that wouldn’t take too kindly to Mickey’s hit. I’m sending each of ‘em a raven. Mickey’s a showman at heart. All the pomp and ceremony behind this little expedition gives Mickey a good cover.”

  “Then why didn’t Joey just let that snake-thing kill you?”

  “Son, we got a code. Joey wouldn’t have gotten credit for offing me if he’d let someone or something else do the dirty work.”

  Milkshake nodded. “I see. What’s next for you?”

  Tony pointed to the box with Joey’s head. “I’m gonna take this back to Vegas.” He then tapped one of the empty boxes. “I’m gonna put Mickey’s head in this box.” Then Tony pointed at the other empty container. “And that one’s for Bobby ‘Three Eyes’. This hit’s got his big brain all over it. Oh, and I’m gonna do a little investigating of my own about this meth thing, and how it might be connected with the People of the Sun. It’s really starting to chap my ass. Good fellas aren’t drug dealers, and we sure as hell don’t do business with cannibals. We’re better than that.”